Paterfamilias
by serpentnine
Summary: She was going to kill him this time. Not lecture him, or shoot him, or even lock him up – she’d just plain kill him.


Paterfamilias 

----

----

Alucard surveyed the scene of destruction with... discontent.

This little underground Millenium base, just outside of Erfurt, had been a busy hive of activity – up until ten minutes ago.

The entrance was – had been, rather -- right where Integra's intelligence indicated, at the back of a dilapidated warehouse. It had taken Alucard all of thirty seconds to dispose of the guards, release his restrictions, and then bring the entire building crashing down, blocking escape for anything more substantial than a squirrel.

And then the complex's narrow and convoluted halls, so useful for defense against mortal invaders, had become conduits of terror. In the tight confines, there was no place to run and certainly no place to hide. Alucard had crashed through the warren like a tidal wave of malevolence, rending flesh from the bones of men and artificial vampires alike.

Alucard did so love these little excursions.

The center of the complex housed a hulking metal contraption, the like of which Millennium seemed really too fond. The purpose of this one seemed to involve a humming noise and a very great number of small flashing lights. White-coated humans and vampires alike darted between towers of computers, shouting to each other -- some drivel about "causality matrixes" and "Novikov self-consistency loops," not that Alucard really cared.

Of more importance, none of the scientists even seemed to have guns. How boring.

One of the white-coats -- Alucard decided he was probably the leader, judging solely by the fact that his hair stuck up at least half again as wildly as anyone else's -- turned. Alucard grinned as he watched shock and horror cross the man's features, then, inexplicably, the scientist began to laugh madly.

"Behold!" Shouted the physicist. "Millenium's secret weapon, ripped from the very fabric of the future! The house of Hellsing will fall to ruin beneath our might!"

Ah; now he understood. The white-coats were trying to stall him. Alucard rolled his eyes -- all of them. Still, if this little enclave of modern Fausts could summon something worth fighting, Alucard was perfectly willing to let them. The entire complex was slowly collapsing -- it wasn't as if any of these Millenium vermin could escape, anyway.

Obligingly, Alucard took the opportunity to produce his weapons, languidly eject his half-used clips, and insert new ones. "So," he growled, "you little instant freaks turn to technology, rather than your own powers? You're more spineless than I imagined."

One of the scientists near the back of the room shouted "Ready!" With a yelp of relief, the mad-haired leader turned and jabbed at a few buttons. The overhead lights flickered and dimmed as the big machine's low hum built to a roar that rumbled through the floor plates. Blue electrical arcs crawled up the contraption's spine-like extrusions in waves. A pinprick of light built above the center of the room, then rapidly ripped downwards. The view to either side of the slash of light seemed to ripple, as if space itself had developed a two-meter tear. The rip began to bulge with force as something on the other side was shoved through.

Alucard could hardly contain his glee. What fun!

With a crack like thunder, the split widened and something, perhaps the size of a man, was propelled out. It hit the ground hard. The slash of light vanished with the whirr of overloaded, dying generators.

Alucard gathered himself, his shadows further darkening the walls as the main lights finally failed. Silence gripped the whole room.

The emergency lights blinked on.

The human-shaped lump in the middle of the floor did not move. Also, it smoked a little.

"I'm very disappointed with you," Alucard told the scientist as he ripped the man's head off.

It was all over very quickly -- not one of the physicists was able to put up more than a token resistance. But even after Alucard had spattered gore up over all the walls and even some of the ceiling (and that took real talent,) the usual satisfaction of Nazis-well-slaughtered failed to materialize.

Alucard sighed and set about gathering himself back into a human form. As long as he had an "enemy" before him, the seals would allow him to maintain the limited power release, and he supposed that was something, anyway. But really, a whole night wasted, and for this? It just wasn't fair.

Vexed, he glared down at Millennium's "secret weapon." The human had atrocious fashion sense, that fact not in the least improved by a quick skip through time. He was almost entirely dressed in tattered black -- some sort of sculpted, leather-like bodyarmor that made the man look like he was an escapee from a dominatrix convention. The armor still smoked in places, but what little flesh Alucard could see seemed more-or-less whole.

The man's cloak, pinned under the armor's horned black pauldrons, had fared much worse. His black hat was intact, but was unremarkable save for the width of its brim and the large, flat opal pinned to the left side. A long sword -- oddly, it had a western-styled crossguard, but the sheathed blade was slim and slightly curved like a katana -- was bound across his back.

Alucard lifted his head, sniffing. Perhaps there was more to this than he thought, after all. The entire room stank of ozone and hot metal -- the machinery that had powered the gate was collapsing slowly into slag, -- but under the smoke, he could taste the newcomer's scent. He smoothly vaulted the railing, letting himself drop into the shallow bowl to confirm his suspicions.

Well now. How... interesting. The creature wasn't human at all, not exactly. His -- its -- heart beat rapidly for one of its kind, perhaps once every two or three seconds. And this contemptible creature was to be the downfall of Hellsing? Alucard thought not.

But since it wasn't human, Alucard could at least kill it, which would be a pleasure in and of itself. Alucard crouched down to wait. If the thing revived in the next few minutes, he could perhaps goad it into fighting back, which would be a pleasant finale to the slaughter of insane-but-ineffectual-undead-Nazis. If it didn't, he'd make sure to finish it off before the weakening structure finally collapsed. Pity it wasn't more lively at the moment; he'd heard some of these creatures could occasionally put up a fair defense.

Not that Alucard had ever actually met one, of course. Lampijerovic -- dhampir, in the English tongue -- were the dirty little secrets of vampire kind. As bastard half-breeds, dhampir possessed some measure of the abilities, but suffered from the same weaknesses, as their vampire parent. And if sun or silver didn't kill them, bullet or blade did the job just as well.

Dhampir were just as bestial as any mad and unmastered fledgling, and just as dim-witted as the average mortal, but they were also very rare. There were only a handful of them born to begin with, and very, very few survived to adulthood. Even if hunters of the human variety managed to overlook one, few vampires would pass up an opportunity to exterminate a dhampir. Alucard had never actually slain one himself, and even if he doubted the act would be anything special, it would at least be something new.

And this one... Alucard leaned forward, frowning. Most dhampir were sired by vampires too weak or young to control their lusts. This one, though, fairly reeked of a powerful sire. His lip curled. Not that the prospect of fucking a human woman was at all repulsive, but what No Life King in their right mind would actually seek to breed one? Well, that Millennium scientist had claimed that the creature had been ripped from the future, hadn't he? So it was possible the dhampir hadn't even been... conceived yet.

He grinned abruptly, showing teeth. Wouldn't it be simply delightful if he could track down the creature's sire, and slay him before the dhampir was even born? Alucard had read a number of texts regarding temporal paradoxes, but had never experienced one himself, and novel experiences were worth seeking at his age.

Alucard laid his palms on the hot concrete, bringing his face close to the creature's throat, careful not to actually touch it. Now, if he could just figure out which bloodline had spawned this beast, he could go about narrowing down the potential sires, and then he could...

For an instant, Alucard thought Integra had walked through the door -- a notion clearly unreasonable, since she was still safely in London, and not likely to find a way to teleport herself to central Germany any time soon. But he smelled Hellsing blood, there was no doubt about it. He looked around. Where in the world could...

It took a moment to sink in.

Alucard very nearly lost control. This misbegotten... It was...! No vampire would ever, ever dare befoul a daughter of Hellsing, not so long as Alucard existed -- never! He'd rend this thing to giblets, and then find its sire -- Alucard knew tortures that could last for decades -- and he'd...

The fluorescent emergency lights above flickered and went out, their circuits shorted, and Alucard was forced to clamp down on his rage as the shadows grew thicker, writhing off the walls in response to his unrest. In this state of mind, he could easily bring the complex down by accident, and he couldn't kill the little dhampir, not just yet. He needed the thing conscious to answer his questions before he exterminated it -- he'd never absorbed a dhampir's soul before, if it even had one, and he had no idea if he could extract information from it as he could a human.

From the purity of the Hellsing blood that graced this creature's veins, and the faint Dravidian tang of south-east Asia he could sense, it had to be a close descendant of Integra's. The possibility that this... this thing was directly her progeny was almost too much to bear -- and incongruous besides. Integra would never allow a vampire to... But that suggested rape, didn't it? Alucard had never shadowslipped across Europe and the English Channel all in one go before, but he was suddenly very, very tempted to try.

He drew a slow, and very unnecessary, breath to calm himself. Alright. He'd interrogate first, then travel immediately back to England. Slaying the dhampir might just have to wait. It was hard to say if the seals would prevent Alucard from devouring a descendant of Hellsing -- even one this tainted -- without at least Integra's approval. Damn!

"Wake up, dhampir. You're going to answer some questions," he hissed. The creature didn't stir. Alucard wrapped tendrils of darkness around the limp body and shoved it over, flipping the half-breed onto its back. In the dim glow of dying computer banks, the dhampir's features reminded him of... something. Someone.

The dhampir's left hand, fingers curled loosely around the palm, stirred a little. Alucard could sense the urgent telepathic contact perfectly well -- the dhampir had a demon ally, how quaint. "_Wake up! We... Oh God, we've got real trouble_."

Strange. Even the shape of the Dhampir's exposed hand was familiar -- the line of the knuckles, the breadth of the wrist. The length of the fingers.

The dhampir groaned softly and its eyes slit open, unfocussed. Those icy blue eyes, faintly radiant with a hint of vampiric energy, would have marked its Hellsing blood even if its scent had not. Alucard frowned. He knew that energy signature, knew it like it was...

Oh.

_Oh._

And also: uh oh.

She was going to kill him this time. Not shout at him, or shoot him, or even lock him up – she'd just plain murder him. Possibly with her bare hands.

_"Please, D. Dammit, come on! Oh, this is bad, this is really, really bad!"_

----

----

Thanks to: Ruby Nightseyes, the superb and thorough beta for this bit of sillyness. Ruby whipped this thing from a mere hint of an idea to smooth readability – bravely, Ruby sliced through run on sentences and severed dangling predicates. Ruby replaced almost-right words with some really ass-kickin' verbiage, plus tightened up previously flabby paragraphs. Also, she encouraged more swearing. What more could anyone ever ask for?

Remaining errors are, as always, mine own.

Thanks also to J Luc Pitard and Neonlights, who also improved this piece immeasurably. Thank you! J Luc solidified my text and kept me from wandering, plus cut out the sucky bits. Neonlights heelped me with mie spellinhg!

Other notes: I expect this has been done before, but I just discovered the movie Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust, and wanted a crack at it, too. Ah -- if anyone's still confused about the crossover, it's with the above movie; the protagonist is a half-vampire, fathered by Dracula, who rides around in approximately the year 12,000 AD... hunting vampires. He has acquired a sentient spell-sucking demon which lives in his left palm -- hence the rather odd talking-hand bit in the story above.

Dhampir are discriminated against by both human and vampire societies in the VHD world.


End file.
